Seeing Eye
by MushroomMafia
Summary: He's blind, but the others aren't. Collection of Break-centric drabbles, prompts by 31 days.
1. Chapter 1

_Break centric drabbles, prompts courtesy of 31 days._

* * *

_We stay because we don't know where else to go._

Sharon sits perfectly still, back against the side of Break's bed. Her thoughts are empty, save for the occasional, _I thought I wore the red dress today, not the purple_ or _I liked his hair longer _or _my feet are cold _or _his hair tickles. _Break is sad, Break is leaning on her shoulder, Break is tired, Break is broken, Break is blind, blind, blind. Sharon just wants to cry somewhere private where Break won't see her, won't think her childish, but she stays anyways, because this is Break, her Xarcs-nii, and right now he's useless and she's going to protect him from the world. And it's painful, because listening to his shallow, unsteady breathing and having his hair tickle her neck she's reminded that he's here but he's leaving, bit by bit, and she wants to run, far far far away but she'll stay, because she doesn't know where she can run to that will outrun this.

.

_The flow of information doesn't always go both ways._

She will always tell him, no matter how trivial. Who just got married to who. Who just turned fifteen. Who had worn the same dress as her to who's ceremony of what. How she was out of shampoo and needed to get some more. How she needed a hot bath with Epsom salts after calling Eques out of someone's shadow whom they'd been tailing for a day. But he doesn't tell, won't tell, can't tell; not anything, not even what's long dead and gone and passed. And it's not just her, it's everyone he knows, he just plasters on a smile because he's a one man show who, above all, tries to protect.

.

_Just like kites with no strings._

Kites with no strings that can sail, birds with no wings that can fly, dolls with no mouths that can talk, fire with no oxygen that can burn. It's the impossible, the magical, the ridiculous; but that's Break for you. He can see when he's blind, he can disappear without moving, he can change the past from the future. He may be blind and broken and bedridden most of the time but he can still soar as if he's really twenty-four again because he has a will that's like a flying kite without strings

.

_Would it help you if I died tonight?_

One day she's going to kill him for trying to kill himself so many times. He calls it revenge, when he brings out his Hatter and falls on his knees coughing blood and staining his umpteenth pair of white gloves while killing those that killed Liam. She calls it stupidity; what's going to happen when she runs out of white gloves to give him? People will die for his quest but he's not allowed to die for it, because he's simply not allowed to die before he finishes it. He's helping no one by dying, he's only hurting those that knew him enough to miss him when he leaves on some day-trip (that he doesn't tell anyone about); he's not even helping himself by dying. She wants to shake him, to shove this in his face, to ask him bitterly and sarcastically _would it help _you _if I died tonight? _And show him that if he's planning to die, she's going to kill him.

.

_Do you know what side of the glass you are on?_

She thinks she's by his side, because she alone has known Xerxes since the day Xerxes was born and Kevin died. Because she alone is accompanying him more often than not, because she alone is his mistress, because she alone knows his fears, his favorite candy, his weaknesses. She alone sits by his sickbed for every excruciating minute he's unconscious, with a tray of cupcakes and a fresh pair of white gloves. But when she reaches out it's a glass wall she touches, not him; she's on the other side with the rest of them all, and she realizes she's been lulled into a false sense of specialty. Because she's trapped behind an invisible divider that's keeping her from Break as he rushes forward, alone, unaided, single-handedly chasing his dreams. And as she presses ten fingers and her forehead and nose against the wall, she can only hope that when he turns around to smile at her through the glass he's still alive.


	2. Chapter 2

_a couple more drabbles with September prompts..._

* * *

_It's just murder._

It's just murder, he says. It's just murder. Just murder. He has to say it one hundred sixteen times before he realizes it's not just murder, it's a tragedy.

_._

_Appetite aroused by the smell of your fear._

There's nothing like a mouthful of cake, he thinks, when pulling information out of mouths with methods best left unsaid. Especially coffee cake. There's something about the. bitter flavor that is just so perfectly sweet for these occasions.

_._

_He said: "Here's the key to heaven."_

Kevin Regnard holds the golden key against his heart, pressed against the black clock ticking away towards something he hopes and kills and hopes some more for. The golden key to heaven, to a paradise where he can remember how he had smiled, where it was Sinclairs, and not the Sinclair. But it's the wrong key; it's not golden, it's just a trick of the light, because when he comes to it's not the Sinclairs, not even the Sinclair, because there are no Sinclairs left.

.

_I can't keep changing just because you think I should._

"No." He says. Sharon exchanges the ruffled bonnet for a flowered one. "No." He says. She puts on a woven sunhat. "No." He says. She slips a small bouquet of pink and purple flowers into the ribbon around the sunhat. "No." He says. She exchanges the bouquet for a yellow and orange one. "No." He says. She takes the sunhat off and puts on a black one with lace trimmings. "No." He says. She takes the hat off and slips on a checkered fedora, complete with a tacky feather. "…No." he says. Sighing, Sharon throws the fedora amongst the sea of a hundred hats and glares at Break. "I'm not going to keep changing just because you don't think anything will ever match with an orange dress. So come on, I have to decide on a pair of shoes too."


End file.
